


First Dates Are The Hardest

by lyriumandmentats



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, First Dates, Fluff and Smut, Hancock wears something other than his frock, He looks fantastic, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Size Kink, Smut, Suit Kink, Surprise Date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 18:10:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11972856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyriumandmentats/pseuds/lyriumandmentats
Summary: “We've been together for what? Four or five months now? I don't know how exactly these things work in the Wasteland but I'm the worst boyfriend ever. I haven't even taken you out.”Hancock cracked one eye open and stared up at him with a look that was confused and sleepy. “What d'you mean? We've been all over the place.”“Not on a date,” Warren pointed out. “Like, as a couple. You know, dinner and dancing and all that shit.”“Aww, sunshine, are you saying you wanna wine and dine me?”So Warren and Hancock sort of skipped the dating part to their relationship, and Warren decides to take matters into his own hands.





	1. Phase One

**Author's Note:**

> I had a dream about this and had to write it. Besides, there's not enough Hancock/Male Sole, and I can't get enough of Warren.
> 
> Seriously I've never been this attached to one of my OCs before. If you're interested in knowing what Warren looks like, google John Halls. It's his official faceclaim and mmf what a hottie. <3333

After yet another coupling with Hancock, Warren found himself wide awake and staring up at the ceiling of his house in Sanctuary. It was late, but he could still hear the whir of the turrets surrounding the settlement and Preston, who had been unfortunate enough to draw the short straw and get stuck with the night watch, whistling the same damn tune he always did.  
Times like this, where all was still and peaceful, and there wasn't anyone shooting at him or begging him to save their cat or wife or fetch some stupid weapon were rare, and Warren treasured them. Especially when Hancock was curled up on the bed next to him, head on his chest and the rest of his lanky body snuggled up to his side like a cat. Even though he hadn't exactly had warm and fuzzy feelings for his now deceased wife (may she rest in peace), Warren still hadn't felt like he'd find anything out here in the Wasteland like what he had with Hancock. He'd never been so happy to be proven wrong.  
He wasn't exactly the warmest person, but he wondered if Hancock knew just how much he'd come to love him.  
“Hey, you awake?” Warren asked, turning his head over to the ghoul, who grunted in response.  
“Not really. Why?”  
The Vault-Dweller grinned and gave Hancock's head an affectionate pat. “I was just thinking.” Hancock grunted again, but it sounded almost like a laugh.  
“About what?”  
“We've been together for what? Four or five months now? I don't know how exactly these things work in the Wasteland but I'm the worst boyfriend ever. I haven't even taken you out.”  
Hancock cracked one eye open and stared up at him with a look that was confused and sleepy. “What d'you mean? We've been all over the place.”  
“Not on a date,” Warren pointed out. “Like, as a couple. You know, dinner and dancing and all that shit.”  
“Aww, sunshine, are you saying you wanna wine and dine me?” the ghoul asked with a laugh, propping himself up on an elbow. “Seriously, though, Warren, it ain't a big deal. Besides, where would be even go?”  
It was a legitimate question. It wasn't like there were too many options in the Commonwealth. Plenty of bars, places to grab a quick bite to eat, but nowhere date worthy, let alone first date worthy. Because it really would be their first date, even if they'd skipped past the dating portion of their relationship. Warren was quiet for a long time, clearly still ruminating over the whole situation, until his thoughts were interrupted by Hancock clearing his throat.  
“You're still thinkin'. Thinkin' is all well and good, but not when it gets in the way of sleeping, and you really need some sleep.”  
“Yeah, yeah, you're right,” Warren said hastily, and he pressed a kiss to the ghoul's forehead before settling back down onto the mattress, smiling at Hancock's sigh of contentment as he curled back up against the curve of his waist.  
But even after his boyfriend's breathing turned to soft snores, Warren was still wide awake, lost in thought.

<><><><><>

“How long are you gonna be gone this time?” Hancock asked, cigarette smoke curling out from between his lips. Warren had woken up early, as he usually did, and was currently strapping on combat armor over his leathers. The fact that he hadn't woken Hancock to get ready with him meant he'd decided on traveling alone, or with someone else. Probably Nick because, as Warren liked to say, he was the only other person in the Commonwealth that he could stand to travel with. Besides Hancock, of course.  
“I don't know. A few days at the most.” Warren shrugged, tugging a grey knit cap over his head. “Nick and I have to run to Diamond City and help Ellie with something, and Piper asked me to check up on her sister for her.”  
The ghoul nodded slowly, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Well, I'll be here,” he said.  
Warren sat down on the bed next to him, and he marveled at just how much smaller Hancock was than him. Not so much in height, even though the Vault-Dweller was probably a good five or so inches taller, but in bulk. Warren had broad shoulders, and though he wasn't shredded by any means, he had defined muscles in his chest and stomach. Where he was muscle and tanned skin, Hancock was all sinew and lean muscle. He might not be able to beat Warren in any contest of strength, but his quick wit and sharp reflexes made him a valuable ally. Not to mention, his skill in combat made Warren's stomach churn, and not in a way that was entirely unpleasant, either.  
“I'll be sure to make it back in one piece,” he promised, pressing his lips to the top of Hancock's head. “Or, at the very least, with my most important bits still attached.”  
The ghoul laughed, snuffing out his cigarette. “That's all I ask,” he teased.  
Nick's voice wafted up the stairs. “Hey, you ready up there? Or do you need a few minutes to, er, get decent?” Bless his robotic heart, Nick had to be one of the least judgmental people in the Commonwealth.  
“Nah, I'm all good,” Warren called down. “I'll be right there.” He turned his hazel eyes to Hancock and frowned. “You'll be okay while I'm gone, right?”  
“I won't try and pick a fight with Danse again, if that's what you mean.”  
Warren rolled his eyes, but cracked a smile. “All right. I'll be back.”  
He met the ghoul's lips in a kiss that was softer than usual, one that made his heart flutter even though they'd kissed countless times before. And before he succumbed to his weaker side and pinned Hancock down on the mattress to cover his body in similarly gentle kisses, Warren pulled away and joined Nick on the main floor of the building he'd put up for himself. He couldn't bring himself to stay in his old house; there were too many ghosts in there.  
“You ready to head out?” the old synth asked, yellow eyes narrowed as he flashed the man a knowing smile.  
“You know it.”

<><><><><>

Diamond City was just waking up when Warren and Nick rolled into town. Myrna was shouting her usual nonsense about “synth-free shopping” (like she could tell if anyone here was a synth or not) and the other shopkeepers were urging visitors to come and check out the new merchandise they'd gotten in. After briefly checking in with Nat at the Publick and dropping off the caps Piper had sent with them, Warren turned to Nick and smiled.  
“You ready?” he asked, and the synth nodded.  
“As ready as I'll ever be for this crazy plan of yours,” he said. “Remind me again what this is all about?”  
“Like I told you on the way here, I want to surprise Hancock. And seeing as you're the only one who can keep their mouth shut about it, I figured you could lend me a hand.”  
Nick chuckled, lighting up a cigarette. “Your secret is safe with me, friend,” he said, crossing his heart. “And what do you mean, keep my mouth shut? Or are you referring to that mess with Cait?”  
Warren snorted. “Yeah, I am.” He was fond of Cait, almost thinking of her as a little sister, but the girl couldn't stay quiet to save her life. When he'd found a recipe for a kind of chem that he'd never even heard of before and was trying to perfect the recipe so he could surprise Hancock with a batch of it, Cait had found out and, even when Warren tried to bribe her into silence with a box of Fancy Lads and a bottle of his favorite kind of whiskey, she'd immediately blabbed to Hancock and spoiled the whole thing.  
Nick nodded in understanding. “Well, let's go, then. What's the first thing on your list?”  
“It won't be easy, but I need to find a decent cook. Like, someone who actually gives a shit about the food when it's served. Not just slap it on a plate and call it good.”  
“You're right. That isn't going to be easy. In case you haven't noticed, there's a shortage of classy restaurants around here.”  
“Yeah, and I doubt anyone in the 'Wealth knows anything about fine dining, anyway. Unless...wait.” Warren snapped his fingers. “Okay, I have an idea.”  
A few hours later, Warren and Nick descended into the catacombs beneath the Old North Church. After brushing past Tinker Tom, who was trying to push another one of his MILA devices on him, the Vault-Dweller caught sight of familiar sunglasses.  
“Hey, Deacon!”  
The man turned towards them, and surprisingly, he hadn't gotten any kind of reconstructive surgery done since the last time Warren had showed up at Railroad HQ. He lifted a hand in greeting and approached them with his signature furtive grin.  
“Hey, boss, Valentine. How's it hanging?”  
“Pretty good, but I have a favor to ask, if you aren't busy doing...whatever it is that you do.”  
“As long as it doesn't involve disarming minefields or fighting off a bunch of Gen-1's and 2's, I'm totally free,” Deacon replied.  
“Awesome,” said Warren, clapping his hands together. “So, what do you know about cooking?”

<><><><><>

Back in Sanctuary, Hancock did what he usually did when Warren was out and about without him. Avoided Danse, harassed Curie, and waited for him to get back. In the beginning it had bothered him when Warren took someone else with him on his escapades. Not because he didn't trust Warren, but because he didn't trust the others to protect him.  
Even knowing about Warren's prior military experience, Hancock still felt better when he knew that he could watch his back, just in case. But as he grew more familiar with the rag tag bunch of misfits that the Vault-Dweller had gathered, the ghoul's anxiety decreased. Sure, he still worried and for good reason, but he knew that the others wouldn't flake out in a fight. Even Dogmeat, who Hancock had seen rip through Raiders like they were wet paper.  
So he spent his time waiting by reading through the copies of Grognak and the Unstoppables that Warren had scraped up for him, ate through almost all of the Cram they'd stashed, and went through a pack of Mentats and several canisters of Jet. He'd been debating on whether or not to use the Ultra Jet he had hidden under his pillow when he heard Dogmeat barking, signaling Warren's return.  
Hancock felt like a damn teenage girl, the way his heart fluttered as he stood to go and greet him. But he couldn't help it. So he tried to act casual as Warren came up the stairs, rucksack slung over his shoulder, his combat armor looking far less scuffed than it usually did after a journey into the Wasteland.  
“About time you showed up,” Hancock said with a mock pout, and Warren set down the sack with a grunt, leaning back to stretch and pop his back.  
“Yeah, I missed you, too, you jerk,” he teased, though there was no bite to his words. He opened his arms and the ghoul stepped into them, swallowed up by biceps that could pop the head off a deathclaw. “I have a surprise for you.”  
Hancock lifted an eyebrow at him. “Oh, really?” he asked, amused. “And Cait actually didn't spoil it this time?”  
Warren pulled a sour look and threw up his arms. “That wasn't my fault!” he said exasperatedly. “And if you're going to be like that, you can just forget about your surprise. I'll give it to someone else instead.”  
“Hey, hey, don't go getting' all broody on me, sunshine,” Hancock said soothingly, running a hand down Warren's stubbled cheek. “I was just teasing you. What did you get for me?”  
He craned his neck to look over at the raggedy satchel that sat at the foot of the bed. Warren laughed, a deep noise that rumbled in his chest. “No, it's not in there,” he said in response to Hancock's unasked question. “Well, I guess part of it is, but it's uh...it's a lot more than what would fit in a sack.”  
The ghoul narrowed his black eyes and wrinkled what was left of his nose. “You know I ain't a patient man, Vaultie. And I ain't too keen on guessing games, either.”  
“I know. Which is why I'm not waiting.” Warren looked down at his feet, at the scuffed combat boots Hancock swore were fused to his feet. The Vault-Dweller's sudden seriousness took him by surprise, and he frowned.  
“Warren? What is it?”

<><><><><>

Warren and Nora didn't have a standard relationship. Hell, what they had barely even resembled one. He was former military, struggled to sleep most nights, spent most of his income on whiskey and frozen dinners. She was nearly twelve years younger than him, had graduated from law school, and had an entire future planned out. One Warren was sure didn't involve a one night stand that resulted in a surprise pregnancy.  
It was a different world back then. Being a single mother was not something any self-respecting woman would do. And not wanting to be the one responsible for ruining Nora's carefully planned future, Warren had suggested that they try to make things work between them, for her sake and for the baby's.  
Nora had resented him from the moment she called him up to tell him she was pregnant until the day she died. Warren did everything he could to provide for her and Shaun, even when his dear and darling wife only referred to him as her husband when they were in public. Behind closed doors, they were little more than roommates whose only connection was their child. A son who they both loved dearly, even when they argued into the night over whose turn it was to sleep on the twin sized bed in his room. Most always it was Warren, who would rather stare up at the glow in the dark star stickers on Shaun's ceiling instead of waking up to Nora's face. Or, more likely, her yelling at him to get up.  
There were nights he wished he wasn't such a damn coward and would finally gather up the courage to just walk away. But as much as he wanted to leave Nora, he couldn't leave his son.  
Strange, how wishes came true. Nora didn't deserve to die, not the way she had, but Warren was almost relieved that she was gone. It was a fucked up thing to think, but he couldn't help it.  
Still, he sometimes found himself thinking back on that life. He and Nora had went on plenty of dinner dates, mostly just to get out of the house, because neither of them dared to argue when they were in public. Needless to say, Warren didn't exactly have fond memories of dating. Even their first date, which took place a few days after Nora had told him she was pregnant, was fraught with tension, and ended with Nora crying and drinking almost two bottles of wine by herself while Warren tried to muffle the sound of her weeping by sticking his head under his pillow.  
Maybe that was why asking Hancock out on a date made him so nervous. He didn't have any good memories to go off of, besides a few dates while he was in high school, but that wasn't entirely it. It was because it was Hancock and Warren really, really didn't want to disappoint him. The ghoul meant more to him than words could ever express, and the fact that this was Warren's first date in over 200 years, and possibly Hancock's first date ever only upped the pressure.  
He decided to do it quick. Painless. Like ripping off a bandage.  
“Would you like to go on a date with me?”  
It sounded fucking ridiculous. Hancock stared at him with wide eyes, like a fish out of water, and he opened and closed his mouth a few times before answering.  
“Uh, uh, yeah.”  
Warren didn't know why the thought that Hancock might have refused had ever crossed his mind. But relief washed through him and he grinned, running a hand down the ghoul's withered face.  
“I was hoping you'd say that. On the top of the bag, there's something for you. Go and get it. I'll be waiting downstairs when you're ready.” Warren kissed Hancock, a fleeting touch with just the slightest amount of need, but nothing that couldn't wait until later.  
Warren gave the ghoul one last look before turning and walking down the stairs. Deacon was waiting there for him, examining his fingernails with his usual casual air.  
“Well? What'd he say?”  
“Phase two is a go.”


	2. Phase Two

Hancock's hands were shaking when he opened the rucksack. He had a reputation for being a womanizing flirt, but beyond inviting people up to the State House for a fling, he'd never been on a date before. And Warren had seemed so sincere when he asked, with those hazel eyes and that dirty blonde hair that the ghoul wanted to tangle his gnarled hands into. Hancock shook his head. He was the fucking Mayor of Goodneighbor, yet once again he felt like some inexperienced virgin, the feeling only reinforced when he saw the outfit Warren had picked out for him sitting on top of the random junk in the bag.  
It was a suit, mostly intact, and he wondered where Warren had stumbled across it. The fabric was a deep grey-blue, and the ensemble came complete with a black tie. Hancock stared at it. It had been a really long time since he'd worn anything but the frock coat that had become like his second skin. Still, the idea of getting all dressed up for whatever Warren had planned for them made him almost giddy with excitement, and Hancock stripped and pulled on the suit as quick as he could. His fingers fumbled with the tie, and he realized with a sinking feeling that he had no fucking clue how to actually tie it. Where the hell was Valentine when you needed him?  
Mentally reproaching himself, Hancock shoved the length of fabric into one of the pockets of his suit pants, and sighed. Part of him wondered if Warren had wanted him to wear his tricorn, but when he looked over into the rucksack again, he saw a pair of dress shoes and a fedora that had previously been covered by the clothes he now wore.   
In all, it only took Hancock about ten minutes to change, and after checking his appearance in a nearby mirror (shit, he almost didn't recognize himself), the ghoul began to descend the stairs.   
If he thought he looked good, Warren looked even better. The Vault-Dweller had evidently scrounged up a suit for himself, though his was a light grey, and his tie was immaculately fastened around his neck. He'd gotten his hair cut while he was out, the undercut neatly trimmed, and the golden hair atop his head swept back in an impossibly smooth wave. Hancock's mouth went dry and he approached very, very slowly, though he felt a huge grin tug across his face as he saw Warren's reaction at his own appearance.  
“Holy shit, you clean up nice,” the man said with a low whistle.   
“So do you, brother. Though next time, you shouldn't abandon me before you show me how to put on a tie,” Hancock said with a laugh. He'd meant it as a joke, but Warren looked appalled, probably at himself.  
“Shit, I'm sorry, Hancock. Here, do you have it on you?” he asked, holding out a hand. The ghoul nodded and pulled it out of his pocket.   
“Here, hold on.” Warren flipped up Hancock's collar and pulled the tie around his neck. The look of concentration on his face, the way his forehead wrinkled and that little frown appeared between his eyebrows. It was all Hancock could do to keep from throwing him up against the wall, the tie forgotten, capture his scarred lips with his own.  
“There.” Warren's voice tugged him out of his impure thoughts, and Hancock fought to ignore the familiar heavy feeling that had settled between his thighs. “All done. Now you're properly dressed.” The man flashed a grin before holding out an arm. “Shall we?”  
The ghoul snorted loudly. “What are you doing?” he asked, staring at Warren's arm, and he rolled his eyes in response, looping Hancock's arm in his.   
“I'm being an escort. It's the gentlemanly thing to do, you know.”  
“Right. Because you're such a gentleman all the time.”  
“Oh hush. This isn't all the time. Now, stop being a spoilsport and c'mon.”  
Warren pushed open the door, and the deepening gold color of the sky as the sun began to set washed over them, catching in Warren's hair and Hancock's eyes and made everything seem like it was warm and safe and right. Even as he had to watch his step to avoid tripping over a massive crack in the sidewalk as they made their way to one of the buildings Warren and his Minutemen hadn't quite finished restoring yet.   
“Where are we going?” Hancock asked.  
“Can't you read the sign?” Warren asked, lifting a brow. “C'mon, Hancock, don't tell me you're too high to read.”  
“Fuck you,” he said, but there was no bite to the words. The ghoul narrowed his eyes at the house, and indeed there was a sign there that he knew for certain he'd never seen before. Painted on its wooden surface in unfamiliar handwriting were the words Le cafe du goulet and Hancock shook his head. “How am I supposed to read that?”  
“Shut up, it's in French. It's supposed to be fancy.”  
Warren held the door open for him, but Hancock froze just before walking in. For as dilapidated as the exterior was, Warren had went all out inside. Dark colored fabric was draped elegantly across the windows, dimming the light in the room significantly. The only lights in the room came from the candles that lined the edges of the floor and flickered brightly atop a table at the far end of the room. The table itself was a work of art, covered in a royal purple cloth that smelled somewhat of mothballs, but was remarkably clean otherwise.   
“Table for two this evening, messieurs?”   
Hancock jumped, not knowing that someone else was in the room. Warren ushered him inside and shut the door behind them. Deacon, who was still wearing his usual sunglasses despite the low lighting, stepped forward, in a clean white shirt and black slacks and a smirk on his smug face.   
“Yes, please,” Warren said, and Deacon gestured grandly to the table behind him, and so they went and sat down, Hancock watching as Warren draped his napkin across his lap and decided maybe he ought to follow suit.   
He let out a low whistle when Deacon presented them with plates of what was obviously food but looked more like a work of art. Some kind of meat (if smell was anything to go off of, it was Brahmin, his favorite) and vegetables, arranged neatly in a stack in the center of the plate and drizzled in some kind of sauce that smelled like...well, honestly, he had no clue, but it smelled amazing.   
“Bon appetite,” Deacon said, and flashed a toothy grin before leaving the building altogether.   
“Shit, Warren, when you say you wanna wine and dine someone, you really go all out,” Hancock said, still staring at his plate. He was almost afraid to eat the food.   
The Vault-Dweller chuckled, pouring them each a glass of wine. After handing a glass to Hancock, he lifted his own in a toast. “To us,” he said, clinking the drink against the ghoul's. “Cheers.”  
“Cheers,” Hancock agreed, and took a drink of the beverage. He'd never been much for wine, but fancy food called for fancy drink. He waited a moment, until Warren lifted a fork and knife and began to eat before he tackled his own plate.  
The first mouthful was like nothing he'd even eaten before, flavors he hadn't even known existed dancing across tastebuds he'd sworn years of chems and radiation exposure had burned off. Warren was watching him with an amused expression, resting his chin in his hand.   
“Enjoying the food, hm?” he teased.  
Hancock couldn't even bring himself to shoot a quip back. Instead, he swallowed and met Warren's gaze. “What the fuck is in here? It tastes like... I dunno, but it's fucking amazing.”  
“That would be spices,” the man replied, taking another bite himself. “It took a while to scrounge them up, but it's basic stuff really. Pepper, some garlic powder. I think I found some rosemary, too. Anyway, most of it is Deacon. Guy's read every book in existence twice, including cookbooks.”   
“Too bad he doesn't like chems. I'd give him a shit ton of Jet if he managed to whip this up again.”   
Warren laughed even through a mouthful of meat. The rest of the meal passed in relative silence before Hancock finished his food and watched Warren as he ate. “You managed to pull this off pretty quickly,” he said, admiration in his voice. “I'm impressed. And flattered. Though honestly I'm mostly surprised.”  
“Surprised?”  
“Yeah. I didn't take you for the romantic type. You're...well, I know it isn't true, but you come across as a real tough guy. No nonsense, ya feel me? So to see you do this kind of thing is... surprising. But definitely in a good way. I don't know how I can top this.”  
“Oh, I can think of a way,” Warren said casually, examining a bite of carrot on his fork before popping it into his mouth. Hancock felt his mouth go dry again, especially when hazel eyes met black and he winked. “Awfully quiet over there, Mayor Hancock. Something on your mind?”  
The ghoul shook his head wildly, managing to unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “You aren't gonna break me that easily. Not before dessert, at least.”  
Warren laughed, and Hancock's heart skipped a beat. He loved it when the man laughed, and loved it even more when it was he who made him laugh.  
“You're right. Besides, there's still more to be done.” He placed his napkin back on top of the now clean plate and stood up, circling around the table to offer Hancock his arm again.  
“More?” The ghoul stood and took Warren's arm, following as they left the building and stepped out into the twilight.   
“What date would be complete without a little dancing?”   
“Oh.” Hancock hoped Warren didn't noticed how nervous his voice sounded, but if he had, he didn't say anything.  
Instead they continued on their way, back towards Warren's house, stopping for a moment so Warren could greet Dogmeat, who was tossing around his teddy bear like he usually did when he was bored. Flashing Hancock his signature toothy grin, Warren pushed open the door and once again ushered him inside.   
The lights had been dimmed while they were gone, the mostly empty main floor of the building bathed once again in candlelight. Hancock wondered if Deacon had come through and lit these candles while they were eating. The minimal furniture had been pushed away from the center of the room, and the only other light besides the flickering candles came from the jukebox that stood proudly against the far wall.  
It had been an ordeal to drag it all the way to Sanctuary from whatever hole Warren had found it in. But somehow he'd managed to get it here, and after a solid week of tinkering and cleaning and replacing parts, he'd got it up and running again. He'd even brought out some of the old holotapes from his house and put them in the machine. The look on his face when the sound of music came crackling out of the jukebox speakers was a moment Hancock had cemented in his memory.  
Now it was playing some slow, lilting music that Hancock didn't recognize, but considering that Diamond City radio only played about twenty songs and nobody actually listened to the classical radio station, it wasn't surprising. Warren held out a hand and the ghoul realized with a start that he was meant to take it.  
“This may come as a real shock to you, sunshine, but I've never exactly danced before. Not too many dances happening 'round these parts, after all.”  
Warren's face remained passive as he took both of Hancock's hands. “Don't worry, I'll show you how. It's easy. Just put one of your hands here,” he put one of the ghoul's hands on his shoulder, “and hold my other hand.” Warren placed his other hand on Hancock's waist and pulled him close enough that the ghoul could feel their body heat mingling. “Now, just follow my lead.”  
Hancock felt his face burning as he did exactly that, his feet moving in time with the Vault-Dweller's, listening with mild interest as Warren hummed along with the music. This was a dream, this had to be a dream. There was no way he was actually here, swaying along and slow dancing with the most gorgeous man he'd ever laid eyes on.  
It was times like this that reinforced just how small he was compared to Warren, too. Especially when both of Hancock's hands were resting on Warren's shoulders, his head pressed against his broad chest, the fedora he'd been wearing tossed aside somewhere in the room. Warren's cheek was pressed to the top of Hancock's head, the slight stubble on his face prickling pleasantly against his skin.   
Two, three, four songs went by, and they pressed closer together as each passed, until eventually the music was drowned out by the pounding of his heart in his ears, and when Warren finally pressed his lips to Hancock's, the ghoul felt like it was the first time he'd ever been kissed.  
“Shit, you're beautiful.” He hadn't even realized he'd spoken until Warren chuckled in reply.  
“So I've heard,” he said playfully. “But you, you've got that, what'd you call it? Sexy, king of the zombies thing?”   
“Big hit with the ladies,” Hancock said with a nod.  
“And the guys.”  
Hancock's stomach did a somersault. “Huh. That so?”  
He got his answer when he felt Warren press his crotch against his thigh, the feeling of his hard-on unmistakable even though the layers of fabric.  
“You wined and dined me, so you know what that means,” Hancock said with a nervous laugh. Why the fuck was he nervous? This was Warren. They'd fucked a thousand times.  
“I have an idea.” Warren bent and swept Hancock off his feet, carrying him bridal style as he made his way up the stairs. The ghoul giggled, arms wrapped around the man's thick neck.   
“You sure know how to show a ghoul a good time, sunshine.”  
“Believe me, the good time hasn't even started yet.”  
Hancock giggled again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay but Hancock in a suit amiright?????


	3. Phase Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the smut, so if that's not what you're here for, please feel free to look away. :3

The tie Warren had so carefully and meticulously placed around his neck was the first to go, tugged loose and tossed aside, followed by the jacket to his suit. Large hands moved across Hancock's chest, slow, relishing in the feeling of his ridged skin through the thin fabric of his dress shirt. Hanock sighed, eyes closed, not knowing that he was being gently guided backwards until his back hit the wall. Warren captured his wrists in one hand, pinning them up above his head, other hand resting on his hip, rubbing small circles into the thin flesh just above his pelvis.   
“I didn't say it earlier, but you look good in blue. That suit fits you well, but I can think of where it would look even better.”  
Hancock hummed; he knew where this joke was going, but his brain was too fuzzy to force his mouth to form words.  
“On my bedroom floor.” Warren's smile was audible in his words, so Hancock didn't even need to open his eyes to picture the smirk on his lips.  
Their lips met in another painfully slow, deep kiss, Warren swallowing every sound that pulled itself from the ghoul's ruined lips. Hancock's fingers twitched in protest of the man's grip, wanting to touch him somewhere, anywhere, and after he had kissed a trail down Hancock's neck, Warren finally let him do just that, releasing his wrists. Hancock tangled his fingers in Warren's hair, tugging slightly, but just hard enough to earn a hiss from the man.  
Black eyes met hazel, and Hancock shuddered. Warren looked every bit the ruthless wastelander he was said to be. His face was handsome in a rugged way, and the way he was positively leering at the ghoul made his scars stand out all the more against his sunkissed skin.   
This time when their lips met, it was not slow or gentle, it was desperate, hungry, and Hancock felt Warren's teeth click against his and realized he cared far less than he might have thought he would. He pressed his tongue to Warren's, drawing the Vault-Dweller's tongue into his own mouth, sucking on it, brushing his own against it, tasting it until he thought he'd never taste anything but Warren again.  
He growled in protest when Warren pulled away, until he realized it was so he could start working open the buttons on Hancock's dress shirt. He watched, sucking down deep breaths, as his chest was exposed button by button, and Warren began to graze his teeth down the heavily scarred skin, biting in all the right places. Damn, the guy knew just where Hancock was the most sensitive, giving those places more attention than any other. It was like he knew the ghoul better than Hancock himself.   
Finally the white shirt was tossed aside, and Warren leaned back to admire his handiwork, the path he'd just kissed and bit and licked down Hancock's chest still gleaming softly in the light.   
“Looking good,” he said, voice rough, and Hancock shivered.  
“I don't see you taking off any clothes,” he pointed out, and Warren chuckled darkly.   
“True. But what's the rush, sweetheart?”  
“I told you before, patience ain't one of my strong suits.”  
“You'll learn to be patient, or I'll just have to strap you down and teach it to you.”  
Hancock laughed. “A bit harsh for a first date, wouldn't you say?”  
He was rewarded with another kiss, significantly less aggressive than the previous one. “You're right. I'm supposed to be a gentleman, right?”   
Still he made no effort to remove any of his own clothing, instead slowly unfastening Hancock's belt, pulling it through the loops of his dress pants. For a moment the ghoul imagined the leather slapping down against his bare skin, leaving red marks even against his own ruined skin. He shook the thoughts from his mind when he felt his pants and underthings pulled down, the cool air meeting his heated skin and pulling a low sound from his throat.   
Warren stared at him with an expression of awe, as if this were the first time that he'd seen Hancock naked. One calloused hand traveled down the ghoul's chest, pausing just below his navel.   
“Where are my manners? May I touch you, Mayor Hancock?”  
There was just a growl and a nod in response. Warren made no sound as his hand wrapped around Hancock's shaft, gave him several slow, drawn out strokes, not enough and yet too much all at once.   
“Fuck, Warren, please...” Please? Please what? What was he even asking for?  
“Yes?” Warren asked, taking Hancock's chin in his free hand and forcing him to meet his gaze. “Something you need?”  
“You,” Hancock gasped.  
“I'm already here, Hancock.”  
“Warren, I... oh shit... I need you, I need something, c'mon, please.”  
There were no words, instead the man lifted the much smaller ghoul and carried him over to the bed, spilling him out gently over the mattress. For a moment Hancock considered pointing out that it wasn't fair that he was completely naked while Warren still had all of his clothes on, but when he felt his cock sucked up into the wet heat of the Vault-Dweller's mouth, any and all thoughts instantly fled his brain.  
A chorus of oh fucks and yes just like that fell from withered lips, and Hancock silently praised Warren and his seeming lack of a gag reflex, as he swallowed him down to the hilt, the head of his cock brushing the back of the man's throat again and again. It was glorious. It was amazing.   
Lost in the sensation of those beautiful scarred lips on his skin, Hancock almost didn't notice the finger that pressed up against his entrance, the slight burn that followed as it pushed into him, and the ghoul groaned, taking his bottom lip in his teeth, biting down in an attempt to stifle the increasingly needy sounds that poured from him like a waterfall.  
Warren pulled his lips off of Hancock with a sinfully wet sound, and focused on working him loose, his second and third fingers slipping into Hancock's heat with little resistance.  
“Fuck Warren, I need you inside me, please.” Hancock almost didn't recognize his own voice, almost a whine as he pleaded for the Vault-Dweller to just fuck him already.  
Warren pulled his fingers out of the ghoul and leaned back, undressing himself slowly, Hancock watching him with baited breath as he exposed his skin inch by beautiful inch. His tanned chest had to have been sculpted by angels, the skin perfectly smooth except for the few puckered scars, which stood out pearly white against the rest of him. And when his own manhood, thick and just as smooth as the rest of him, was freed from the confines of his clothes, Hancock swallowed hard. The size never ceased to amaze him, no matter how many times he'd felt it inside of him.   
“See something you like?” Warren's voice was low, a rumble deep in his chest.  
Hancock could only nod, licking his lips. Warren wrapped his hand around his shaft, pumped it with slow stokes, letting out that same deep groan he always did when he was touched, and Hancock practically whimpered with need.   
“Wanna touch you,” he whispered, and Warren looked up at him through lidded eyes.   
“Thought you wanted me to fuck you?”   
Hancock slowly shook his head, and Warren looked confused.  
“This is our first date. I want you to make love to me.”  
The sound Warren made was unlike anything Hancock had ever heard.   
They'd been together several months, had slept together more than several times, but when they had sex, it was hot and heavy, all need and speed, like an itch that needed to be scratched. Sure, they'd had sex like this before, unrushed, unhurried, and able to take the time to explore one another's bodies, but something inside of Hancock wanted – no, needed – this. To feel wanted and needed and loved. Warren reached out and took Hancock's face in his hands, kissing him as if it were the most important thing he had ever done or would ever do.  
“You'll be the death of me,” the man whispered, and Hancock grinned sheepishly.  
“What can I say? You bring this out in me. Don't tell anyone, though, understood?”  
Warren shook his head, still smiling. “Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart.”  
He kissed Hancock again, with a different kind of urgency, and stretched his body out over the ghoul, their erections brushing against one another, drawing forth moans from the both of them. Slowly, Warren rocked his hips, and they touched again, and Hancock almost sobbed. He could have come right then and there.  
But then Warren was fumbling around under his pillow for the small bottle of lube he kept stashed under there. After finding it and coating his cock in it, he guided himself between Hancock's legs, pressing up against his entrance. He met the ghoul's gaze with intensity, waiting for permission. When Hancock nodded frantically, pressed himself down against him, Warren slowly pushed up past the tight muscle and into the ghoul's welcoming heat.  
“Oh, sweet fuck you're so fucking perfect,” he groaned out through gritted teeth. Hancock cried out, hands flying up and grabbing at Warren's shoulders, pulling him down until their chests touched, hearts hammering together.   
It was a slow and sweet torture, the movement of Warren's hips, of his cock, sliding in and out of Hancock with increasingly erratic movements. Hancock clung to him like he would die if he let go, face buried in the crook of the man's neck. Warren was gasping for air, but between gasps, managed to choke out strangled I love you, oh god, I love you, Hancock and Hancock could only moan in response, his brain a mess of colors and stars.  
And it was Hancock who came undone first. All it took was for one of Warren's hands to brush against his erection, and he was crying out Warren's name over and over again, his seed spilling out, searing hot against his stomach and Warren's hand.  
His lover wasn't far behind, thrusting only a few more times, before shoving himself deeper into Hancock than he ever had before, emptying into him with drawn out gasps and promises that he loved him more than anything, that he'd never leave his side.  
When Warren fell limply onto the bed next to Hancock, he let out a long breath. Hancock hadn't realized he had been crying until he felt Warren's hand on his face, brushing away the tears with a tenderness he'd never known, but could certainly get used to. Surely this wasn't the same man who he'd seen punch a Super Mutant into an unrecognizable, gooey mess. Yet it was, those hands gently wiping each tear away from ruined skin, kissing him with an adoration that threatened to bring more tears to his eyes.  
“So? What did you think of our first date?” Warren asked, pulling Hancock against him, wrapping his arms around him like a cocoon of muscle.   
Finally, Hancock found his voice.  
“I just hope there's a second.”  
“For you?” Warren said with a breathless laugh. “There'll be more than that.”  
“That'll work for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading through this! I was a hot mess when I wrote it, so hopefully you enjoyed. I'm always looking for suggestions for more plot ideas and shiz, so if you want, hmu friend~! Much love!!


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